Dangerous Deception (7 page)

“Hey, hang on – I didn't mean to scare you.”

I shook his hand off and stood panting, still poised for flight. Was this Sinbad?

He said, “I say, I did give you a jolt, didn't I? I'm awfully sorry.”

The breath was still a hard knot in my throat. “Were you following me?” I demanded unevenly.

He shrugged smilingly. “You hinted back at the hotel that you'd welcome some company.”

I should have to watch my words more carefully; following the supposed compliment, he must have taken my unthinking remark as an invitation.

“I thought you were going to the beach?”

“Not I, ma'am. Pauline's taken the kids with a packed lunch; it's not worth going that far unless you make a day of it, and as I've a golf date with the Zimmermans at two, I had to opt out.”

My breath was steadying now. “I see.”

“Are you making for anywhere in particular?”

I hesitated. I wasn't afraid any more, but nor did I want the company of Clive Mortimer and his dark, assessing eyes; though I could hardly say so.

“I was aiming for that crop of rocks; there should be a wonderful view from there.”

“May I join you?”

The question was perfunctory, since he was already walking beside me. Together we went back down the slope to the pine wood.

“You said last night you weren't interested in climbing or golf,” Clive commented. “It seems a odd place to find a girl like you all alone.”

I thought of Aladdin and my determination to play along with him. If, as Jack said, we were to pretend to be lovers, it would be wise to establish that now. Also, whether or not Clive really was Sinbad, it might help to keep him at arm's length.

So I said lightly, “I'm not really alone – or at least, not for long. My friend should have come with me, but he was delayed. He'll be here in time for lunch.”

Intent on my lines, I hadn't noticed the little trickle of water running under the trees and my feet slithered suddenly on a pile of wet leaves. Clive's hand, warm on my wind-cooled arm, steadied me.

“Are you an item, then, you and this chap?”

I looked back at him with raised eyebrows and he gave an embarrassed laugh. “None of my business, eh? You're right, of course. Well, he's a lucky bloke. I hope he realises it.”

We were through the wood now and the wind, which had been sifting through the pinetops above us, met us head-on, making me gasp.

We scrambled up the rough ground, his hand under my elbow. The grey, flat-topped rock stretched like a natural platform, affording a magnificent outlook. Falling away from our feet went the rocky scree, dwindling farther down to isolated boulders and outcrops until it levelled out on the easier slopes with a covering of grass. In the distance, the valley road lay white and dusty, with a minute beetle-car crawling along it. Could that be Aladdin?

I tore my eyes away, scanning instead the far hillside where a quarry was eating away at its side like a wasting disease. And away to our right lay the indented coastline and the sea. Braced against the wind, my hair streaming behind me, I was filled with exhilaration at the beauty of it all.

“You look like some spirit of the hills,” Clive said unexpectedly. “You'd better come down, in case a sudden gust blows you off.”

My gaze returned to the steep rocks falling vertically from where I stood, and I took an involuntary step backwards. Clive had seated himself behind the shelter of some bushes, from where he could still see across the valley. Since it seemed churlish not to, I sat down beside him.

He fished in his pocket for cigarettes. “Do you smoke?”

I shook my head.

“Mind if I do?”

“No.”

He lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply, then leant his head back and blew smoke circles at the sky.

“Tell me about yourself,” he invited.

Dangerous ground; suppose he knew the background of the real Goldilocks, and this was some kind of test?

“Nothing very interesting,” I hedged, realising with dismay just how careful I would have to be.

“A mystery woman! That makes you even more exciting!” He reached for my hand, but I sat forward, managing to evade it without giving the impression of doing so.

“What about you?” I countered. “How long have you been married?”

“Not very subtle, lovely Clare! But since you ask, the answer is ten years. Which doesn't automatically blind me to other women's attractions. However,” he continued when I didn't speak, “I have the feeling that won't cut much ice with you. Right?”

“Right.”

“Oh well, win some, lose some. You can't blame me for trying.”

Curiously, the wariness between us fell away and we both relaxed. It was as though his macho self-image forced him to try his luck, but having failed, he bore me no ill-will. Further, he proved, surprisingly, to be an interesting and informative companion, naming the various hills and bays that lay spread before us.

By now completely at ease with him, I'd have welcomed his company at the hotel during the wait for Aladdin, but he was lunching at the golf club with the Zimmermans.

I glanced at my watch. It was already after eleven-thirty, and some of the anxiety of the previous night returned, producing a leaden feeling inside me.

Clive had seen my movement, and consulted his own watch. “Yes, it's time we were getting back. Mustn't keep the boyfriend waiting!”

He took my hand and this time I made no attempt to withdraw it. It was oddly comforting. Side by side, we went back down the slippery hillside to the Carreg Coed and parted at the gateway. Since Pauline had taken the car, he was intending to catch the hourly bus along the main road. I stood looking after him and he turned at the corner, raising his hand in a wave. Then he was gone.

With a tightening of my stomach muscles, I turned and walked into the hotel.

The hall was deserted, and a faint smell of cooking came from the kitchen. Through the glass wall I could see the old ladies placidly knitting in the lounge. I started up the stairs, realised I hadn't collected my key, and went back down again. It was twelve-fifteen. Had he arrived?

Reaching for the key, I wished passionately that I'd never come to this wretched place, and was safely at home in my cheerless, impersonal flat. My moment of panic on the hill had shown how flimsy was my attempt at bravado. How could I have imagined for one moment that I could beat these people at their own game? I must have been insane! I should have left after breakfast, as I'd first intended, and been miles away by this time. Now, it was too late. I would have to go through with it.

As I was turning away, my eyes lit on the postcard rack on the desk. I picked out three at random, dropped some coins into the box provided for the purpose, and went back up the stairs.

The door of the room next to mine stood open, awaiting the arrival of its new occupant. So he wasn't here yet. I glanced inside as I passed, and came to a sudden halt as I caught sight of a piece of paper propped up on the dressing-table.

Another note from Sinbad? Without conscious thought I darted into the room, snatched it up and crammed it into my pocket. Then I was outside and fumbling at my own door.

I closed it firmly and leant against it, breathing deeply as I withdrew the crumpled paper and smoothed it out with trembling fingers.

Not from Sinbad, anyway. It was typed on hotel stationery and read:
Miss Lawrence unavoidably detained after slight road accident, but hopes to arrive tomorrow
. It was signed
G Davies
.

I released my breath in a long sigh. The fates were with me. If Aladdin had read that, he wouldn't have established contact with me, and Sinbad would have wondered why.

Once more I climbed on the dressing-stool and stowed my latest trophy away with the others. It was unlikely Mrs Davies would refer to it, she'd naturally assume he'd received it. I wiped wet palms down my shorts. Now, all I could do was try to fill in the time until he arrived.

I washed, changed into a dress, and sat down on the window-seat to write my postcards.

I addressed the first one to Matthew, explaining my inadvertent change of itinerary. (If only I'd gone to Somerset!) Then, trying to think of something bland to say, I wrote another to a girl at work.

I'd just finished the second card when there was a tap on the door. My head snapped up.

“Yes?”

“It's Morgan, Clare. I was wondering if you'd join me for a drink before lunch?”

“Oh Morgan, I'd love to!” A wave of grateful relief washed over me; I shouldn't after all have to sit waiting by myself.

“Did you enjoy your walk?” he asked, as we went together down the stairs.

“Yes, thanks. I went up the hill.”

“Perhaps we could go farther afield this afternoon? I've done quite enough work for a Saturday!”

“Oh, I—” For the second time I embarked on the story I'd been given. “I'm expecting someone any minute. I'm – not sure I'll be free this afternoon.”

I realised with a sudden sinking of the heart that Aladdin would expect me to spend all my time with him, as would be only natural for lovers. But how could I be constantly with him, without giving myself away?

Morgan glanced at my face, took my arm and led me into the cocktail lounge.

“A girlfriend?” he asked. It was differently phrased from Clive's question, but it meant the same.

I looked away. “No.”

“Oh, well, the luck of the draw, I suppose. I might have known you were too pretty to be unattached.”

The cocktail lounge was small and bright, the large semicircular bar unit taking up most of the room. There were a few tables round the wall.

“Don't let's sit in the window,” I said quickly.

He raised his eyebrows but made no comment. We threaded our way past some people I hadn't seen before – passing trade, no doubt – to a table at the far side.

“Now, what's it to be? Sherry?”

“Could I have a gin and tonic?”

“In need of something stronger? Of course.”

I looked at him sharply, but he'd turned away to order. The clock above the bar moved jerkily forward one minute. The hands pointed to twelve thirty-five. My heart was beginning to pound again. I wished I dared confide in Morgan, but how did I know I could trust him? The situation was too potentially dangerous to rely on feminine intuition.

“Here we are.” He was beside me, setting the drinks on the table.

At least he'd be with me, to help me over the initial meeting. Then a thought struck me, jerking my hand so that the drink spilled on the table. I'd be expected to introduce him to Aladdin!

Panic engulfed me. Why hadn't I thought of this? Why in the name of heaven hadn't I tried to find out the real name of the man due any minute? Was there time to run out and ask Mrs Davies? Yet what possible reason could I give?

But before I could formulate any emergency plan, the sound of a car turning off the road reached us through the open window and the next minute a dark car swept past. It was too late.

There was the scrunch of feet on the gravel, but the entrance lay between us and the car park and the new arrival didn't pass the window. I imagined rather than heard the whisper of the swing doors, and voices in the hall. He'd probably look for me in the lounge. Would he take his case upstairs? Had I any chance of a hasty look at the register? How many seconds had I?

A ruddy-faced man at the next table laughed uproariously.
Oh, be quiet
, I implored him silently.
How can I hear
—?

Then suddenly the man who must surely be Aladdin was in the doorway. My hands clenched in an uncontrollable spasm and I felt myself go rigid. His eyes moved swiftly down the room, found mine, and he stiffened. There was on his face a frozen look of disbelief. Oh God! I thought raspingly, oh God!

For a timeless aeon which could only have been seconds, we stared across the room at each other. Then, with an obvious effort, he forced the semblance of a smile and made his way over to me, his eyes still locked on mine. He bent down, kissed me lightly, and said, with only a slight tremor in his voice, “Hello, darling. Sorry I got held up.”

I tried to speak, but no sound came. Carefully I unflexed my knotted fingers and tried again.

“Hello, Philip,” I said.

‘“I can't explain myself, I'm afraid sir,” said Alice,

“because I'm not myself, you see.”

“I don't see,” said the Caterpillar.'

Lewis Carroll:
Alice in Wonderland

MORGAN cleared his throat. “Can I get you a drink?”

With an enormous effort, I pulled myself together. “I'm so sorry. Morgan, this is Philip Hardy. Philip – Morgan Rees.”

The two men shook hands and Morgan excused himself and went over to the bar. I didn't dare look at Philip, but I could feel him staring at me. I thought wildly – but it can't be him! Was there some mistake? Had Philip arrived by chance, and was Aladdin still to come?

Perhaps I was wrong and the plot, whatever it was, was perfectly innocent? Philip couldn't be involved in anything shady.

Or could he? I'd already been disillusioned on that score, three months ago. I'd convinced myself it had been a temporary slip, but had it in fact been only the beginning? When Philip flung himself out of Matthew's firm, had it been into really deep waters?

“Gin and bitters.” Morgan put the glass in front of Philip. “A topper, Clare?”

I shook my head, needing all my wits about me now.

“Have you come far?” Morgan inquired pleasantly.

“Only from Bristol, this morning. I couldn't get away as early as I'd hoped, so decided to break the journey. I suppose you arrived yesterday, Clare?”

“Yes.” I wondered if Morgan noticed how jerky our voices were.

“Did you have a reasonable journey?”

“It was all right.”